Rafferty didn’t imagine that the threshold was easy to cross.
It was a soulless place, its evil so potent that his breath was stolen away. He stared at it in awe and terror, seeing red pulse beneath its doors. It was full to bursting, powerful and frightening. The sounds of fetters carried to his ears, along with the moans of those held captive there.
Thorolf swore softly behind him. Niall winced at the smell of death and destruction, of evil and despair.
Rafferty wondered who—or what—guarded the door.
“This is where shadow dragons are made,” Rafferty told the new recruit, who stared in astonishment.
“We’re gonna die here,” Thorolf said, eying the water that rose around their knees. “We gotta get out.”
“We are here for a reason,” Rafferty insisted.
Nikolas was at the door of the academy, thrashing at it with his tail and breathing fire in his fury. He pivoted, eyes flashing, to confront his fellows, apparently not surprised by their arrival.
“The Wyvern is captive!” he roared in old-speak. His ancient fellows bellowed in consternation.
“It is forbidden to injure the Wyvern,” declared the leader.
“It is our obligation to defend she who cannot defend herself,” insisted another.
Then the Dragon’s Teeth warriors joined Nikolas’s labor. They ripped at the steel doors that secured the dark academy. They breathed fire in unison and pulled the reinforcing bands free. Many talons did indeed make light work of a massive task.
And still the level of the water rose.
The Dragon’s Teeth warriors battered the barrier, using their tails in unison. Others, meanwhile, struck at the rock face, breaking away chunks of rock with sheer force.
The pulse of red beneath the academy’s doors became brighter and more vehemently red with each passing moment. The water rose higher and higher, and Rafferty took flight to remain above its cold clutch. He could hear the earth rumbling in protest at this assault and wondered what would give first. He kept Thorolf close by his side, knowing that the untrained Pyr was his responsibility.
The screaming within the academy rose to a crescendo, but the Dragon’s Teeth warriors didn’t stop. They worked with the discipline of a well-trained force, persistent and powerful, under Nikolas’s command.
Rafferty had time to admire their diligence and effectiveness before the battle changed. A crevasse broke open in the steel doors and a slice of darkness slipped into the ranks of the assaulting force.
“Shadow dragons,” Niall hissed in old-speak, recognizing them for what they were.
“What foe is this?” demanded the Dragon’s Tooth warrior who had led the force. He turned his forceful gaze upon Rafferty, seeking an answer.
“Pyr, harvested from their graves and compelled to drink the Dragon’s Blood Elixir of immortality,” Rafferty said, seeing the warrior’s astonishment. “They must be dismembered, incinerated, and their ashes scattered. They have no blood and fight relentlessly.”
“Vermin,” the warrior said, his eyes narrowing as he lifted his claws.
Rafferty made no response. He saw the shadow dragon that had been his grandfather. He had feared that they would meet again, and the shadow dragon flew directly toward him, an unholy malice in his gaze.
Niall shouted when the shadow dragon that had been his twin brother assaulted him. Rafferty locked claws with the abomination that had been his beloved grandfather. The shadow dragon was fierce and powerful, bloodthirsty in a way that nearly overwhelmed Rafferty. A little too late, he thought about the blood sacrifice foretold by the prophecy.
Would Rafferty be it?
Erik snatched at the red salamander Boris had become, but missed. Boris scampered across the roof, limping slightly, but determined. He was heading for the spilled Elixir that dripped down the wall of the adjacent building.
Erik meant to ensure that the Slayer never reached it. He dove and snapped, but Boris slipped under an air-conditioning unit. He heard the patter of footsteps; then Eileen appeared below him. She reached under the unit, into a space he couldn’t negotiate, and hauled out the salamander by its tail.
Boris shifted to dragon form before Erik could guess what he would do. He was blackened and burned, but his anger gave him strength. He snatched at Eileen and she turned to run.
Boris snagged the end of Eileen’s scarf before Erik struck him with his tail. He held fast as he stumbled, coming precariously close to the edge of the roof. Eileen dove at his ankles, tripping him.
Boris fell.
But he grabbed Eileen first.
Boris’s wings were torn, but he flapped them furiously all the same. He laughed when he saw Erik and dug his talons into Eileen. She struggled and squirmed, kicking him to no avail. Erik leapt off the roof in pursuit, spiraling down after the pair.
“You have to save me to save your mate.” Boris chuckled. “But then, if I fall, I will live.”
Erik snatched Boris out of the air and ascended rapidly. Eileen gasped and he could feel the panicked pace of her heart. He soared about the city and tossed Boris high, surrounding him with dragonsmoke. He kept a conduit open with the dragonsmoke, stealing energy away from Boris. He could feel the Slayer weakening.
Boris swore. He twitched. He writhed within the dragonsmoke that had no effect upon Eileen, but he held fast to Eileen. When the ground came too close, Erik caught Boris again.
The fiend breathed dragonfire at both Erik and Eileen. Erik shouted in frustration and lashed Boris with his tail. The sleeve of Eileen’s coat was burning and she was pounding it on Boris to damp the flames. Erik grabbed the Slayer out of the air, spinning him with savage force.
Boris let go of Eileen.
Erik dropped Boris and dove after Eileen. He knew his priorities. He could fight Boris another day, but needed to save Eileen immediately.
To Erik’s horror, Magnus caught Eileen first.
Chapter 27
Thorolf wasn’t about to stand by and let his new companions get slaughtered. He was ready to kick some butt.
He wasn’t ready to die either, and kicking butt was the best way to get out of this mess.
The battlefield had expanded beyond the doors themselves and things were getting ugly. Shadow dragons had cut down Dragon’s Teeth warriors, and their blood stained the ever-rising water. Dragon’s Teeth warriors, following their leader’s instructions, were dismembering shadow dragons.
The ghouls fought on, oblivious to their missing limbs and wings.
Nikolas and a small company continued to batter on the doors of the academy, and the shouts of those imprisoned within got steadily louder.
The water was getting deeper.
The rock was shuddering.
Rafferty was getting thumped by the shadow dragon that had targeted him, while Niall was holding his own against the shadow dragon that so closely resembled him. Thorolf chose to help Rafferty first.
He latched on to the back of the shadow dragon, ripping one wing from his back with a savage blow. There was no blood, just as Rafferty had said.
They weren’t real, in Thorolf’s terms. They were zombies, or ghouls, the undead risen to torment the living. He could see the anguish in Rafferty’s eyes and knew that the old Pyr had known this shadow dragon in life.
Maybe loved him.
So, the Slayers played dirty. That wasn’t a surprise. Thorolf had no problems thumping the ghoul for Rafferty.
The shadow dragon spun and hissed dragonsmoke that smelled foul. It stung but Thorolf held on, cutting the other wing loose and letting it fall. He held the furious shadow dragon above the ground, letting him sputter and spew smoke and fire.
“Come on!” Thorolf shouted. “Let’s finish him off.”
Rafferty’s expression was set when he attacked. The shadow dragon met him with a flurry of claws and teeth, but Thorolf successfully held him back. He was a slippery bugger and big, but Thorolf was stronger.
Maybe more determined.
H
e saw Rafferty weep as he sliced the legs from the captive shadow dragon. Thorolf breathed dragonfire, incinerating the falling limbs as best he could before they hit the water. The shadow dragon struggled with new force when he had no limbs left, and his old-speak echoed in Thorolf’s thoughts.
“Remember when we sat by the fire,” he said, and Rafferty retreated in horror. “Remember the tales I told you. . . .”
Rafferty choked in dismay.
“He’s trying to trick you,” Thorolf cried. “He’s using your feelings against you. Just do it!”
Rafferty’s gaze steeled. He raised his claws and dove at the shadow dragon, the force of his impact slamming Thorolf back into the rock wall of the cavern. The shadow dragon begged and cried; he shouted in some language Thorolf didn’t know. Rafferty slashed and bit, he wept, but he did what had to be done.
The shadow dragon’s head fell and Rafferty dove after it, exhaling a furious torrent of fire and smoke. He sought the other pieces and Thorolf helped him, the scorch marks helping them to identify the parts.
When the shadow dragon was no more, Rafferty took a shaking breath. “He was my grandfather,” he said to Thorolf. “Or he had been my grandfather, lying peacefully in the earth, before Magnus turned him into this abomination.”
Thorolf nodded, understanding why Niall bore such a resemblance to his opponent. He was fighting grimly on the other side of the cavern. His shadow dragon had lost an arm, but Niall was fading.
“Come on,” Thorolf said. “Niall needs our help.”
Magnus had to like how things were coming together. The shadow dragon he’d made of the Smith’s brother was fighting Quinn, the Smith, keeping him fully occupied. It was charming how these Pyr had such difficulties bringing themselves to destroy the shadow dragons that resembled those they had loved.
It was so very predictable.
The other shadow dragons fought Sloane and Donovan. Even though Donovan had called upon the weapons he commanded as the Warrior, even though stone and hail fell down upon the battle, the shadow dragons were oblivious to that arsenal.
And Jorge was doing precisely what he was told to do. Magnus would be rid of Boris before this was over, and it looked as if both Erik and his mate would be slaughtered as well.
It would be a good day’s work, all around.
He held Erik’s mate close as he flew, putting distance between himself and Erik and making it look effortless. He discovered that he liked the scent of human female as much as he ever had. “So, was it worthwhile, ending your life with a firestorm?”
“My life’s not over yet,” she muttered with that human persistence he found so endearing.
If futile.
Magnus smiled. “Isn’t it?” he asked, then opened his mouth to breathe the dragonfire that would draw Erik closer.
Erik ripped through the sky, right on cue, as bent on retrieving his mate as Magnus had expected. Jorge leapt out from behind the building to attack Erik from behind.
“There’s another one!” the mate shouted, and Erik spun in the nick of time. He locked claws with Jorge, the two grappling for supremacy with savage force.
Erik, to Magnus’s dismay, was no longer missing a scale. Some old talisman shone on his brow, a black stone that was etched with a symbol. The woman in his grip was responsible for that, no doubt.
Magnus held her at arm’s length and loosed dragonfire again. He’d burn her to cinders, break Erik’s spirit and then his body. Liking that idea, he took a good deep breath. He’d fry her in one long stream of dragonfire. It would be a poetic sign of his power.
Then something changed.
Magnus felt the break as surely as if something had shattered within him. His first thought was that the doors of his dark academy had been breached, but he knew that was impossible.
Was the stronghold of the Elixir in peril?
He choked on the very idea.
Impossible. Impossible.
And yet, something had changed. The change was deeply wrong.
In that same moment, the shadow dragon that had been Quinn’s brother screamed, along with the other shadow dragons. They, too, sensed defeat at a distance. They abandoned the fight and retreated, disappearing like a flock of crows into the sky. Donovan gave chase, but they moved quickly and left him behind.
That was when Magnus was sure where the other battle raged.
His dark academy was no longer secure.
The shadow dragons responded to the cries of their fellows.
They should have listened to him.
“Where are you going?” Magnus roared. The other Slayers had deserted him, too—he couldn’t even see that untrustworthy fool Boris. His entire plan was in tatters because someone had dared to breach the doors of the academy.
Magnus would find out who was responsible and make that individual pay.
Infuriated, he prepared to destroy Erik’s mate before he pursued his disloyal minions.
To his astonishment, a flash of sapphire and steel drove between Magnus and his prey. Magnus’s dragonfire never found its mark—the flames crackled orange in the air, leaving Magnus’s talons singed but the woman unscathed.
She was falling.
The Smith took Magnus’s dragonfire with a defiant roar, punching Magnus in the face as he did so. The sparkle of his scales grew to furious brilliance, as clear a mark of his lineage as anything.
The cursed Pyr fought together, much to Magnus’s irritation. Once his opponent had fled, Quinn had fought to serve the greater good. He fought for the defense of Erik’s mate.
Magnus disliked such noble impulses, especially in his foes.
He swore and turned to command Jorge. To his dismay, the gold Slayer had pursued the shadow dragons in an attempt to muster them.
Magnus was abandoned to the Pyr.
Erik caught his mate and held her in one possessive claw.
“He’s missing a scale,” the infernal woman said, pointing at Magnus. She indicated a space on her own chest. “Right there.”
The Pyr turned as one, targeting Magnus, their eyes gleaming. Magnus was furious. Despite all factors being in his favor just moments before, his victory had been snatched away by the Pyr.
He’d get even.
This wasn’t done.
But he had to find out what had gone wrong.
As the Pyr closed ranks, Magnus decided that the time had come to leave. He wouldn’t admit even to himself that he was leaving while he still had the chance. He was not retreating.
He was regrouping.
Rafferty was exhausted but the three Pyr were close to defeating the shadow dragon that had been created of Niall’s twin brother. He thought one last blow from Niall would do it.
But before that blow was struck, the doors of the academy buckled completely under the assault of Nikolas and his crew. A foul stench emerged from the space within along with a scream of anguish. It sounded like an alarm, one that left the attacking troops surprised.
The shadow dragon attacking Niall took advantage of the Pyr’s surprise to flee. He flew for the tunnel entrance like a missile, followed by the other surviving shadow dragons. A dark cloud moved through the cavern, like bats stirred from a deep cave. Rafferty was shocked that so few of the shadow dragons had been killed. They streamed toward the academy, answering a summons to return to the place they had been created.
Maybe to defend it in this assault.
The Dragon’s Teeth warriors didn’t hesitate once the academy was opened. Nikolas leapt into the darkness revealed and they leapt after him. Rafferty followed suit, anxious to see what would happen.
The leader flew beside Rafferty, his suspicion clear. “Who screams?”
Rafferty guessed. “Those who are being forced to become shadow dragons against their will.” He thought of Delaney. “It is said to be a painful process, one that can drive a Pyr to madness.”
“Can they be saved?”
Rafferty shook his head. “Not often.”
“We have
no time to assess each one. I will not risk the escape of a single abomination.” The leader divided his troops with decisive gestures, dispatching them down the corridors that snaked in every direction from the central chamber. Rafferty knew they would do what had to be done to put the captives out of their misery.
There was a central hall in the academy, housed in a natural cavern that arched high overhead. The marks of men and their explosives were less evident, as was the smell of ore.
A pulsing red light was cast over the confused expressions on the faces of the Dragon’s Teeth warriors. The light came from everywhere and nowhere, making Rafferty’s blood resonate with urgency.
In the midst of the chamber was a dervish, a blur of spiraling white. It was Sophie, caught in a wreath of dragonsmoke. She was spinning endlessly, fading visibly as she was powerless to stop. The smoke encircled her; then its extending tendrils slipped down the corridors that stretched in half a dozen directions.
As Rafferty watched, the dragonsmoke stole her vitality, feeding the pulse of red of the academy itself. It could have been the heart of the place. The light grew brighter and redder, more clearly the hue of blood. Sophie was withering, screaming, disappearing to nothing before their very eyes.
He leapt forward to help her, but Nikolas reached her first. The ancient Pyr lunged through the dragonsmoke—he bellowed with pain beneath its assault but he didn’t halt. He caught Sophie, but instead of pulling her back to safety, he was snared within the dragonsmoke as well.
They spun together, a vortex of alternating black and white, one that grew smaller with every passing moment. The red pulsed brighter and hotter as the dragonsmoke sucked them dry. The beat increased pace and took on an urgency. It thudded through Rafferty insistently and filled him with dread.
Rafferty felt the first crack.
He sensed Gaia’s first shudder.
He understood that the physical location of the academy couldn’t consume the raw energy it gained from Nikolas. Nikolas and Sophie twisted together, a maelstrom of destruction that couldn’t be stopped, that wouldn’t be stopped until their life force was completely stolen. Anyone who intervened would only add his own life force to the strength of the academy.